Martin Pippin in the Apple Orchard by Eleanor Farjeon (best new books to read txt) 📕

have watched his dreams, he watched the bubbles float away; and break. But one of the loveliest at last sailed over the Well-House and between the ropes of the swing and among the fruit-laden boughs, miraculously escaping all perils; and over the hedge, where a small wind bore it up and up out of sight. And Martin, who had been looking after it with a rapt gaze, sighed, "Oh!" And six other "Ohs!" echoed his. Then he looked up and saw the six milkmaids standing quite close to him, full of hesitation and longing. So he took six more pipes from his pockets, and soon the air was glistening with bubbles, big and little. Sometimes they blew the bubbles very quickly, shaking the tiny globes as fast as they could from the bowl, till the air was filled with a treasure of opals and diamonds and moonstones and pearls, as though the king of the east had emptied his casket there. And sometimes they blew steadily and with care, endeavoring to create the best and biggest bubble of all; but generally they blew an instant too long, and the bubble burst before it left the pipe. Whenever a great sphere was launched the blower cried in ecstasy, "Oh, look at mine!" and her comrades, merely glancing, cried in equal ecstasy, "Yes, but see mine!" And each had a moment's delight in the others' bubbles, but everlasting joy in her own, and was secretly certain that of all the bubbles hers were the biggest and brightest. The biggest and brightest of all was really blown by little Joan: as Martin, in a whisper, assured her. He whispered the same thing, however, to each of her friends, and for one truth told five lies. Sometimes they played together, taking their bubbles delicately from one pipe to another, and sometimes blew their bubbles side by side till they united, and made their venture into the world like man and wife. And often they put all their pipes at once into the pannikin, and blew in the water, rearing a great palace of crystal hemispheres, that rose until it hit their chins and cheeks and the tips of their noses, and broke on them, leaving on their fair skin a trace of glistening foam. And as the six laughing faces bent over the pannikin on his knees, Martin observed that Joscelyn's hair was coiled like two great lovely roses over her ears, and that Joyce's was in clusters of ringlets, and that Jane's was folded close and smooth and shining round her small head, and that Jessica's was tucked under like a boy's, while Jennifer's lay in a soft knot on her neck. But little Joan's was hanging still in its plaits over her shoulders, and one thick plait was half undone, and the loose hair got in her own and everybody's way, and was such a nuisance that Martin was obliged at last to gather it in his hand and hold it aside for the sake of the bubble-blowers. And when they lifted their heads he was looking at them so gravely that Joyce laughed, and Jessica's eyes were a question, and Jane looked demure, and Jennifer astonished, and Joscelyn extremely composed and indifferent. And little Joan blushed. To cover her blushing she offered him another penny.

"I was thinking," said Martin, "how strange it is that girls are so absolutely different."

Then six demure shadows appeared at the very corners of their mouths, and they rose from their knees and said with one accord, "It must be dinner-time." And it was.

"Bread is a good thing," said Martin, twirling a buttercup as he swallowed his last crumb, "but I also like butter. Do not you, Mistress Joscelyn?"

"It depends on who makes it," said she. "There is butter and butter."

"I believe," said Martin, "that you do not like butter at all."

"I do not like other people's butter," said Joscelyn.

"Let us be sure," said Martin. And he twirled his buttercup under her chin. "Fie, Mistress Joscelyn!" he cried. "What a golden chin! I never saw any one so fond of butter in all my days."

"Is it very gold?" asked Joscelyn, and ran to the duckpond to look, but couldn't see because she was on the wrong side of the gate.

"Do I like butter?" cried Jessica.

"Do I?" cried Jennifer.

"Do I?" cried Joyce.

"Do I?" cried Jane.

"Oh, do I?" cried Joan.

"We'll soon find out," said Martin, and put buttercups under all their chins, turn by turn. And they all liked butter exceedingly.

"Do YOU like butter, Master Pippin?" asked little Joan.

"Try me," said he.

And six buttercups were simultaneously presented to his chin, and it was discovered that he liked butter the best of them all.

Then every girl had to prove it on every other girl, and again on Martin one at a time, and he on them again. And in this delicious pastime the afternoon wore by, and evening fell, and they came golden-chinned to dinner.

Supper was scarcely ended--indeed, her mouth was still full--when Jessica, looking straight at Martin, said, "I'm dying to swing."

"I never saved a lady's life easier," said Martin; and in one moment she found herself where she wished to be, and in the next saw him close beside her on the apple-bough. The five other girls went to their own branches as naturally as hens to the roost. Joscelyn inspected them like a captain marshalling his men, and when each was armed with an apple she said:

"We are ready now, Master Pippin."

"I wish I were too," said he, "but my tale has taken a fit of the shivers on the threshold, like an unexpected guest who doubts his welcome."

"Are we not all bidding it in?" said Joscelyn impatiently.

"Yes, like sweet daughters of the house," said Martin. "But what of the mistress?" And he looked across at Gillian by the well, but she looked only into the grass and her thoughts.

"Let the daughters do to begin with," said Joscelyn, "and make it your business to stay till the